Bondmate
by The Real JL Rules
Summary: ONESHOT: Nothing much scares Windblade. But the question she has for her bodyguard is shaking her to her spark... Mild SWEARING warning (if "scrap" counts).


_DISCLAIMERS/NOTES_

 _1\. This is a fan fiction based on a property owned by Hasbro. I DO NOT OWN IT. This is just for fun._

 _2\. This is a femmslash story. If you don't like that sort of thing, you won't like this._

 _3\. This is set in a generic continuity, taking elements from Generation 1 and Aligned._

* * *

Windblade's spark fritzed as she heard the footsteps behind her. This was it. No turning back. Literally.

The Camien slowly turned away from the view overlooking Iacon to see her bodyguard Chromia approach. "Hey," the blue-and-white femm said, her brow furrowed. "Your call sounded urgent. Is something wrong?"

Windblade was silent for an astrosecond before responding. She could do this. "No, nothing's wrong. I just... " She paused, again inwardly cursing her awkwardness.

Reaching her charge, Chromia looked at the red-and-black jet. He expression was now one of derision. "You sound really convincing, Windblade." She stepped closer and raised a hand, gently stroking Windblade's arm. "What is it?"

Windblade looked up at the bike, and felt her resolve slipping. This was a mistake. It had to be. There was no way Chromia would agree to this. It was the height of unprofessionalism.

As soon as she thought that, Windblade realised that was absurd. They crossed that line a long time ago. She needed to rebuild her nerve. She just needed a few moments. A distraction. "Did you get through to Arcee?" the Cityspeaker blurted.

Chromia glared at her for an instant, clearly noticing Windblade's attempt at topic-changing. But she did not show impatience for long. "Yes, I did. It's been too long since we've been in contact with her."

"She's still happy on Earth?" asked Windblade.

"To put it mildly," smirked the bodyguard. "Since the end of the war, she's been like a different 'bot."

Windblade nodded. "That's good. She did her part, and more, against the 'Cons."

"Too true. But I don't think that's the full - even the _main_ \- reason for her newfound joy."

The red-and-blue femm knew what her partner was getting at. And really, that was connected to the reason she asked Chromia to see her now. Part of her again wanted to back down, to transform and literally fly away from the confines of Metroplex's city mode. But _no_ : she would do this. Because if she did not, she knew she would regret it for the rest of her existence. "So she's still happy with her bondmate?" Windblade asked.

At that, Chromia chuckled. "To an almost-nauseating degree. She keeps saying how her bondmate - or husband, as they call it on Earth - has made her happier than she ever thought possible. Right now, they're getting ready for something called 'Christmas'." At Windblade's questioning look, she continued. "Apparently a day where family members give eachother packaged gifts."

The jet frowned a little. "A specific day for gift-giving? That sounds odd." She then mused a moment. "But somehow... nice."

"I thought so," replied Chromia. She then shook her head ruefully. "I tell you, to hear Arcee speak of him, you'd think this 'Jack' was a Prime."

Windblade's face dropped slightly. "You shouldn't say that, Chromia. The Prime is sacred."

"It was just a joke, Windblade," tutted Chromia.

The Cityspeaker held her head and groaned. Though the title of Prime was indeed beyond reproach, she should not have taken it that far. She knew her bodyguard's comparison was harmless but, in her nervousness, Windblade took it as belittlement.

"Windblade," came Chromia's voice. When the jet looked back at her, the bike raised her hand higher and began stroking the decorated face. "What is it? Please tell me."

Windblade knew it was now or never. No more backtracking, no more delay, no more avoidance. She gently took Chromia's hand in hers, removing it from her cheek and tightening her grip. "Come on." With that, she began walking back to the balcony overlooking Iacon, taking her bodyguard with her.

"I don't understand... " began Chromia, but stopped when they reached the edge of the balcony.

Windblade took one last moment to strengthen her resolve. Looking out over the city, she began. "Chromia, since we came to Cybertron from Caminus, I've been exposed to the horrors of the Civil War that, beforehand, we'd only heard in legend. Though we fought for only a fraction of the other Autobots, the time we spent in the war was enough to shake me to my spark." She raised their joined hands and held them to her chassis. "The one thing that got me through it was you. Not just as my bodyguard... but as my sparkmate."

Chromia's optics softened. "Windy... that goes double for me." She moved closer again and gave a quick kiss to the cityspeaker's decorated lips. "But I still don't understand. Why are you telling me this? I already know... we both know that. Or are your memory banks faulty? Do I need to tell you again that I love you?" She smiled slightly. "Because I don't mind if that's the case."

Windblade chuckled lightly. "I know, sweetspark," she whispered. "But now... I don't think... "

Chromia's jaw suddenly dropped. " _What_? Are... are you saying you don't love... ?!"

"Oh, Chromia, no," snapped the jet. "Matrix, _no_. What I mean is... is... " She lowered her head, self-hate filling her. "Scrap, I'm doing this all wrong... "

Chromia placed a finger under her chin and raised them back to optic-level. "Then please, love, just clear your mind. The words will come. They always do for you."

 _Not_ always, Windblade thought to herself. For a Cityspeaker, she was never that good at talking about her feelings, especially to the one 'bot who meant more to her than anything. "Chromia... since we've known eachother, you've protected me in more ways than I can say. You've given me strength when my own waned. I couldn't have done half of what I've accomplished as guardian of Metroplex, without you."

The blue bike's face had a wide grin slapped on it. Seeing Chromia so happy urged Windblade on. She wanted to make her even happier... as happy as possible. And hopefully, what she had in mind would achieve that. "But being sparkmates... just isn't enough. Not anymore. I want everyone to know how much I love you. I want to make _us_ official."

Chromia's jaw dropped again. "Windy... are you asking what I think... ?"

"I want us to be bondmates," said Windblade softly. "Will you perform the ceremony with me, infront of all our friends?"

Chromia seemed at a loss for words, and fear began to creep back into Windblade. This was the reaction she was terrified of. She asked too much. _Wanted_ too much. When the femms began their coupling, they initially kept it secret. Chromia was, after all, her bodyguard, and Windblade's role in society was one of great import. It was truly the height of unprofessionalism. But neither could help themselves: their need for eachother was uncontrollable, and quickly, that need turned to real love.

Over the cycles, it became increasingly difficult to hide their affection. By now it was a complete open secret; _everyone_ knew, just never talked about it. But there was never a hint of resentment or distaste over it. Everyone showed understanding and even happiness for Windblade and Chromia - even if it was never overt.

In his own way, even Metroplex showed his support. Though when in city mode he was innately aware, on a subliminal level, of everyone and everything within him, he clearly shut down sensors in individual rooms whenever Windblade and Chromia feld the need for some circuit-fiddling. It was hardly an exclusive thing: Metroplex would never intrude into any Autobots' private quartres inside him, but it still touched Windblade's spark at his discretion.

But _this_... this was surely too much. Perhaps Chromia was not ready. Perhaps she did not want to openly reveal their coupling. Perhaps she even feared for insults and reevaluations to their respective professional roles. Needless to say, it would be terrible for a Cityspeaker to be ousted from her post by the people. Not to mention the Mistress of Flame's reaction... !

Eventually, Chromia spoke. Windblade felt her spark pulsate and she knew at that moment, her bodyguard leaving her would be even worse than if the Mistress condemned them.

"Windblade... as your bodyguard, I've always said that I would go offline for you." Chromia looked straight into the Cityspeaker's optics, her own unwavering. "But as your sparkmate, I'd go offline _without_ you."

Windblade's vocal processor fritzed. "So... you're saying... " Please, please, _please_... !

"Yes, my love," soothed Chromia. "I'll be your bondmate." The happiness in her face was impossible to misconstrue. "Other than your safety, there's nothing I'd want more."

Windblade's spark threatened to burst out of her chassis. "I love you so much, Chromia... " With that, they both leaned in and kissed deeply. Windblade wrapped her arms around her bodyguard, her lover, her sparkmate... her soon-to-be _bondmate_.

There were still lots of things in their lives. Metroplex's wellbeing was a constant concern. Though the war was over, few other 'bots believed the Decepticons were gone for good. And though it would hardly stop the two femms, a bonding ideally needed the blessing of the Prime... though they both knew Rodimus would grant it.

But right now, all that mattered was Windblade and Chromia, and their love. As their kiss deepened, a random thought occurred to the Cityspeaker.

This was not a bad Christmas gift to start out with...

* * *

Merry Christmas/happy holidays, everyone!


End file.
